Gardening

Once a year we have seen her
for over a decade, and in
that time she has aged, become
wan, lost her two little
companion dogs, her marriage
and the smiles that once
creased her weathered face.
Her gardening business remains
intact continuing to thrive
and bring her satisfied clients.
During the planting season
she is occupied and remunerated
allowing her the luxury of
winter travel to warmer climes.
She bedecks herself with
jewellery, an indulgence of
vanity most women can relate
to; its brightness a contrast to
anyone's sober countenance, a
trifle too well-aged for pleasure.
Still, a smile breaks through
her stolid composure when after
she compliments me on the 
sparkling beauty of a bauble I
wear, I unclasp it from around
my neck and present it, as a gift
to her, the radiance of her
disbelieving face more than
adequate compensation for the
gesture. Then, I focus on the
floral selections to render my
garden a challenge of summer
beauty, form and fragrance, more
precious than what I surrendered.